Ch-ch-ch-changes

Those of you who know me well are probably aware of my insufferable lack of patriotism. It's inexcusable. It's shameless. But it's the truth. Now before you guys start hating on me and/or judging me, and telling me to pack up and leave since I obviously don't belong here, hear me out. The thing is, patriotism is an emotion that I have never understood. Wikipedia defines it as a devotion to one's country. It sounds simple enough, but I can't help thinking that it's based entirely on devotion to a country you just so happened to be born in (generally, anyway...I'm not talking about dual nationalities right now!).

 I could easily have been born in Zimbabwe or Namibia or China, and would have been expected to offer up my affections to either one of them simply because I was born there. We don't get to choose our families or our countries; we take what we get and that doesn't necessarily mean they're always the best for us. (Okay, I love my family to death, and I think they're better than the best, and I'm sure most of you feel the same way about yours, but I'm also pretty sure there are some people out there who feel differently). The point I'm trying to make is that die-hard patriotism to one's country sometimes seems like a forced emotion. It's a biig world. And being part of the human race, we've inherited all of it, so it follows that we should be allowed to roam around as we please and live in whichever country we like. If not for all the demarcated boundaries, that is. Anyway, this is all what I used to think when it came to being a 'patriotic Pakistani'. As much as I loved studying the history of the Subcontinent and how Partition came about and as much as I ADORED Muhammad Ali Jinnah in his role as the Father of the Nation and felt indebted to him for the many sacrifices he made to give us this homeland, I still couldn't imagine giving up my life unhesitatingly for a country I was born in. 

Still. Things are somewhat different now. And it's all thanks to the trip my family took to Lahore and Islamabad earlier this summer. It'd been long overdue; my mom had a ton of relatives to meet who she hadn't seen for more than 15 years and my dad thought we needed to experience more of this country. (My dad's all for new experiences:P It's his favourite word, no kidding.) All that time I spent travelling on trains, and buses and taxis, something happened and somewhere along the way, I began to feel differently about Pakistan for the first time in my life. For once, it wasn't a feeling I got from watching a documentary or attending a seminar or workshop that had forced me to think about all the lives this nation has wrought; it was an emotion that came naturally and rose out of nothing, so it obviously meant a lot lot more to me. In Lahore, we didn't get a chance to do much sightseeing. It's hard to miss Minar-e-Pakistan of course, and my mom's cousin took us to see the Lahore Zoo (yes, the zoo) and the Badshahi Mosque, and I just caught a glance of the Lahore Fort from the outside (visiting hours were up). The Badshahi Mosque honestly blew me away; it was so beautiful and full of history. I couldn't believe I was standing in a structure built by the lost Mughal emperors. 

And then we went to Rawalpindi, and onward to Islamabad. Islamabad is beautiful, in a dry, dull sort of way. I guess it's the kind of place you'd go to to recuperate from a loss or a heartbreak. Expansive roads, spacious houses and quiet shopping centres everywhere. It felt so peaceful after all the chaos we had left behind in Lahore and Karachi. We went to Murree and Nathia Gali and I couldn't believe we were still in Pakistan. I never knew, I had no idea, that's what I kept thinking when I saw the mountains and hills and the pine trees stacked on their sides all the way to the blue sky. I've heard people talking about how beautiful the north of Pakistan is but I had no idea, I never realized just what they meant until I saw it for myself. We stopped at Abbotabad on our way back. When we were pulling out of the city crammed in the back of a Suzuki with the hot afternoon sun blazing down and an incredibly hot wind blowing, I was staring out the window at the mountains in the distance and I caught glimpse of a fire high up among the trees. I had heard of a wildfire somewhere in Mansehra eating up vegetation when we'd been staying at my aunt's in Islamabad and I had thought it such a sad waste then. I don't know if it was the song that I was listening to (Amen Omen by Ben Harper) right then, the fire that burned so fiercely up on the mountains while the rest of us carried on with our business down below, or the feeling that had been building up in me for the past couple of days-a mixture of anger and sadness at the waste and trash we have made out of this beautiful country we have been blessed with, anyway, I ended up crying. It wasn't much, but it made me realize that I do, indeed, feel something for Pakistan. And there was more. I think, for the first time, I began to appreciate what it truly means to be a Pakistani; the fact that you can travel through all those cities and stay in whichever one you want, and not be an outsider, simply because you belong here, because it's your home, because you're a Pakistani, and nobody can ever take that away from you. You were born with a right to this homeland. And I guess that's what 'love of the land' means. I guess that's what people would die for. 
So am I on my way to becoming a die-hard Pakistani? I very well may be.